BE/US LP/CS Play It Again Sam BIAS149
The Silver Man - keyboards, samples, devices, percussion
Bob Pistoor - guitars, sitar, bass
Qa'Sepel - voices, keyboards
Niels van Hoorn - flute, saxophones, bass clarinet
Hans Meyer - electronics, oboe, tymphanis
Produced by the LPDs, engineered by Hanz Myer.
The first 3000 copies of European CD edition include the bonus 3" CD.
The music of the Pink Dots has always had the ability to saturate any room with an opium-dense smog. With six members this time around, these minstrels' latest romp through the neitherlands-not to be confused with the band's motherland, The Netherlands-creates yet another smooth surface with which to tap your senses and behold splendor. Over the past 10 years this band has had its share of ups and downs-including an unexpected cancellation of 1987's tour which resulted in half of the band splitting followed by an eviction notice forcing the remaining members to live out of a caravan for awhile-bouncing back in 1988 with the Golden Age LP and perhaps the most ornate spire of sound yet in the form of The Crushed Velvet Apocalypse. The band is experiencing a bit of a problem with gaining access into the States for this summer's tour, as the elitist attitude taken by the Immigration & Naturalization Services has already thwarted the first few dates (a U.S. border problem with an alarming frequency). Until the mess is cleaned up, blessed deviants can kneel to the petroleum product, especially: "Hellsville," "I Love You In Your Tragic Beauty," "Just A Lifetime," "New Tomorrow" and "Green Gang." - CMJ
I Love You in Your Tragic Beauty
I watched you in your tragic beauty walk beneath my window. Eyes aimed high, but unfocused . . . . sure, you never noticed me. You always wore the same dress; always bore the same expression: "It's a loveless world so what's the point of looking? Let it be . . ." I considered throwing roses--thought I'd maybe wave a flag. Had to try and force some small connection-- but, there's a snag. It's my confession that I watch you in my tragic isolation. In my fear . . . that's the way it's been for years. That's the way it will always be . . .
The Green Gang
Drowning in dog stew and strangled in vine. Blister wine burns the inside . . . (They flew in a line over poppy fields. They'd drop and they'd blast their supply. On demand! They persist. They pervert. They command: "RED alert." And green burns to yellow, to orange, to dirt covered baby bones in powder piles. Mile after mile. And a line costs a dime. A slaughter's a quarter. Yes, the Green God's immortal, whispers "Peace in our time." RED alert! Here come the Green Gang . . . .
Fixing on a lonely star on 4 Avengers morning, on the blood stained steps of Hope, forgotten, carrying our cross like guilty children waiting 'til our father's home. Hel'' crack our backs, he'll break our bones. His iron rod will comb the hair that stiffens on our spines. We walk defeated in a line. Our one release is in the fiery furnace . . . Take us swiftly, take us now to Hellsville (Bells peal! Roll the barrel . . . Down the pills.) But still we'll never die because we cannot pay enough. Our sweet Lord may be merciful, but he likes to play things tough. And HELL is where the action is. They came from lonely stars in search of wholesome entertainment. We're the stars. We're the stars that line the stage--the attraction of the ages. Buy a ticket, feel our pain. God, it's outrageous. It's a scream in Hellsville.
The right hand grips, the left hand slides. The pennies drop, the boxes glide. It never stops. She worked the line blind. Folded, pushed, . . . A pirhouette. No thought, no joy, no regrets. A cigarette was hanging from a cord and every thousand boxes she'd suck her reward and find her island. But the siren howled. The whip cracked anda pre-packed mountain pressed her neck. She'd switch to frantic, automatic. Clear the decks. Turn on, tune in--machine was humming omm. Neon. Flashing laser blade was scratching OBEY! No rest, no play. No time. She worked the line. The pay was fine. She'd find her island in July and find a rock to sit on quietly humming ommmm. The pay was fine. She worked the line. She'd find her island in July and find a rock to sit on quietly humming OBEY . . .
Just a Lifetime
Weeping like the ghost of winter, we watch our tears kiss ash and turn to steam. We walk on hot coals where a stream meandered. Tarred and tanned. We flex and count the tumours on our hands--spreading swiftly now. For this, we waited just a lifetime. Sun blessed mirror shaded mad dogs. Blow a kiss we'll all fall over. Hunting the oasis but there's only cola- sensurround. A technicolour thrill . . . it costs a fortune, so it must be real. For just a little sip, we'll keep waiting (just a lifetime.) And some of us work underground. We dug a hole and settled down. We waited for the gentle sound of steady rain to soak the ground and raattle on our ventilator. Guess the time we sat there waiting. Yes, you guessed! We waited just a lifetime. And dragons walked the earth again; parrafin was free. A fire-eater went insane and torched the final tree. And one fine say the planet crumbled, just cos someone sneezed. For this, we waited just a lifetime.
The Death of Jack the Ripper
She could smell his fear like black piss river; like knotted balls of wors rolling in the smouldering ruins of an abbatoir. Like suicide in Menstrual Lake. Like the open graves of Hell. She could smell in as she gripped the knife and held it to his neck. She could smell his fear as cries for help grew wings and trickled neatly into garbage cans. As 16 crippled hands fumbled with his zip. Twisted. Ate him slowly . . . kissed him quick. The scarlet ghosts would flinch--a glimpse of stocking! Shock the Red Night blue and clean away the mess cos Jack is dead. JACK IS DEAD!! (And nobody knew)
Silent as the final hour heralding a quake, we cut the wire . . . We slipped the guard, sprayed "LOVE" across the barricades. As searchlights swooped and froze and failed to isolate a trace of life outside the gates of New Tomorrow. The penalty for deviation's clear to those with ears and eyes. We stretch our claws behind closed doors. We always have our alibis. Outside we smile with lips zipped, eyes fixed forward. We never criticise the pure and guiding Light of new Tomorrow. But though they burned the history books, they cannot kill the ghost that cruises Blindman's boulevard and plants a rose . . . who flings his seeds of Breakdown Bridge and sees a legend grow of life beyond the throes of New Tomorrow. And we have watched the sun roll down the mountain to a frozen lake. We have heard our laughs go on forever deep inside a crystal cave. We told them as they plunged the needle, pledging our escape from the all-embracing arms of New Tomorrow. WE SHALL SEE OUR KINGDOM COME!
Princess Coldheart, The Pleasure Palace, The Collector (see Princess Coldheart.)
Crushed Velvet Apocalypse
Peace in our time.(x6)